


to perish by the power of fire

by chochangs (novelteas)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALSO THIS WAS NOT MEANT TO BE THIS LONG im SO SORRY i genuinely lost my mind, Angst, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Mutual Pining, but. whatever. enjoy, honestly theres a lot of whump but, i didn't mean for it to turn out like that but like. what else can i say, i don't really know what i was going for w this like idk the vibe, i just really wanted something tender ok guys!!, i think. i guess i mean yeah, its a happy ending and sirius and remus are so freaking soft ok, madam pomfrey is also unexpectedly a wolfstar stan, nothing graphic obviously but we know sirius's family life was. not good, sorry these tags are not helpful or organized that's just how i am, why must a fic have Plot? is it not enough to simply have a lot of angst and tender love?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:54:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25428010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novelteas/pseuds/chochangs
Summary: If I am to perish by the power of fire, at least let that fire be yours.Ovid,MetamorphosesII.280-281."They didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."As he reveals his secret to his closest friends, Remus Lupin finds that he does have to live on the margins of society, and he dares to let himself imagine a future where he does not have to exist alone.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	to perish by the power of fire

**Author's Note:**

> this is unbeta'd! and it shows! so sorry in advance!! lol
> 
> i will be going thru in the next couple of weeks to fix/revise errors. also, should go w/o saying but just so everyone knows where i stand vis-a-vis jkr: she can shut up!! this is a terf free zone babey

The first time they noticed, Remus had an excuse ready. They'd barely known him enough to think anything of his lengthy absence at the start of term, and hadn't asked in October either. Remus had thanked his lucky stars for it, but he'd spent the rest of the month waiting for the next full moon, obsessively thinking about what he would say when they asked. A list had been formulating in his mind for weeks, running on and on with dozens of possible responses he could use for years . . . they wouldn't even notice if he repeated some of them, he thought, a few of them could be recycled. 

He lifted a hand above his face, turning it back and forth in the morning light of the hospital wing. It looked normal, incapable of betraying his secret; his claws had retracted behind his cuticles and his nails were simple ovals again, ragged with anxious chewing. There was no sign of the monstrosity his body carried. Madam Pomfrey — accompanied by Dumbledore, who seemed only to be there out of curiosity about how Remus was adjusting, perhaps to report to his parents — had arrived to retrieve him from the Shrieking Shack when dawn broke, and had escorted him back to the school with a great deal of sympathetic murmuring. "You don't look well," she'd tutted, rather unnecessarily, guiding him up to the hospital wing with an iron grip on his arm. Then she'd ordered him into bed with the promise of missing at least the morning's classes, ignoring his protests about falling behind in Charms. "You've already missed three days," she'd said brusquely, drawing the curtains around his bed, "another won't make a difference. I'm sure Professor Flitwick will be more than understanding of your situation in his class."

And so Remus laid there, alone in the hospital wing, his back aching and sore and his eyes burning from the brightening daylight, while he reviewed his options and listened to the clocks ticking. He missed his friends already, even after a few days, but he dreaded having to see them again and lie to their faces; Sirius and James were too smart, they'd ask questions, even if Peter wouldn't . . . he counted the days on his fingers, breathing a sigh of relief when he realized he'd be home for the holidays after the next one, one less story to fabricate. 

Footsteps echoed on the flagstones outside, and Remus instinctively rolled over in bed until his back was to the doors just before they swung open. He couldn't stomach the thought of someone walking in on him like this, even if he was shielded from sight, even if none of the incriminating evidence remained on his body. He could hear Madam Pomfrey hurrying out of her office, demanding, "What is it? Who's — _oh._ "

"Is he back yet?" A voice Remus recognized as belonging to Sirius drifted through the curtains, and his heart dropped. So Sirius knew. "Is he — ?" There was the sound of shuffling feet, and Remus knew Sirius had spotted the curtains drawn in front of where he lay. "He's back, isn't he? Can I see him?"

"Absolutely not!" Madam Pomfrey said sternly. "He's just returned, and he needs to rest." Sirius began to protest — "But he's been resting for three days!" — but Madam Pomfrey cut him off. "No doubt you will overexert him before he is fully recovered, and that is the last thing he needs."

Panic gripped him, stomach churning even though it was empty. So they'd been coming to the hospital wing every day, asking after him, knowing he wasn't there. He clenched his fists nervously, nails digging into his palms, imagining he was back in that horrid shack, by himself, alone, a monster. _He's just returned,_ Madam Pomfrey had said. Had she told them? But if she had, and his friends were still here, asking to see him . . . .

"He will be able to rejoin you and your friends by this afternoon," Madam Pomfrey continued, "but I suggest, for now, that you go down to breakfast instead, Mr. Black."

Remus shifted onto his back again quickly. It sounded as if Sirius had come up alone — and now that he thought about it more, there was an absence of other voices — he was sure that James would've been unable to keep his mouth shut during this whole exchange. Perhaps James and Peter had decided they couldn't keep the company of a werewolf, but Sirius had at least chanced one last visit . . . .

Remus sat up slowly, wincing as his joints cracked in protest. His skin still prickled, an uncomfortable burning sensation along his ribs where he'd scratched himself last night. Sirius was still talking, though it sounded as if he was being quickly ushered away. Remus started — his last remaining friend was being rushed out the door — he couldn't bear not knowing what they were all thinking. He dragged himself out of bed and shuffled towards the voices.

"Sirius?" he said, pulling one of the curtains slightly to the side. The sunlight streaming through the windows was oppressive, almost blinding, and he tried to block it out with his hand. "Sirius!"

Madam Pomfrey and Sirius turned around at the same time; Sirius looked delighted, while Madam Pomfrey immediately hurried towards him, shooing him back. "What are you doing out of bed?" she said, scandalised. Sirius took the opportunity to follow. "Barely back from St. Mungo's for an _hour_ and you're running about — you see, Mr. Black, I was _right_ , you _would_ overexert him!"

Remus stared at Madam Pomfrey as she nearly pushed him back into bed and busied herself with tucking the sheets around him. _St. Mungo's_ , she'd said . . . a surge of gratitude replaced the panicked terror he'd been feeling just moments earlier; she hadn't told them after all, she'd covered for him, she'd added to his list of excuses and lies without being asked. He smiled up at her weakly, trying to show her his thanks. "Can't I just talk to Sirius for a few minutes?" he asked. "I'm resting, look — "

"I won't _overexert_ him," Sirius added, adding finger-quotes, though his grin clearly betrayed his intentions to catch Remus up on the last three days of mischief.

Madam Pomfrey looked between the two of them and then sighed as if giving up. "Five minutes," she said, "and I don't want to see you here because you've skipped breakfast and feel sick later, Mr. Black." She marched off into her office again, arms folded, muttering to herself.

"You look awful," Sirius said, once she was out of earshot. "I think Peter thought you must have died when you didn't come back to the dormitory a couple of nights ago. Then Professor McGonagall said you'd been taken ill, and we came here the next morning to see you, and Madam Pomfrey said you'd been taken to St. Mungo's overnight — we didn't know you were so sick, mate, you should've told us something was wrong. I knew you didn't look good in Charms that day."

"Yeah," Remus laughed uneasily. "Are James and Peter — ?"

"They're at breakfast. I wasn't hungry; thought I'd come up here and see if you were back instead. Oh — reminds me," Sirius paused, rummaging in his pockets and producing a Chocolate Frog, which he tossed on the bed, "Slughorn's got a stash in his desk drawer. James nicked us a couple — nothing special, but always tastes better when it's contraband."

Remus turned the Chocolate Frog over in his hands and set it on the bedside table.

"You're not going to eat that? Thought you'd be starving, figured you hadn't had breakfast yet."

"Later," he said, looking back at Sirius. A painful twinge rippled up and down his back and the nervous fear returned. "I'm still not feeling so well."

"Fair. You do look a bit peaky, Remus. And pretty bad, like all pale. What were you sick with, anyway? Have you been cursed, or something? You look like you haven't slept for days." Sirius had dragged over a chair and was stationing himself next to the bed now, clearly planning to stay for as long as he could get away with. Remus felt unexpectedly pleased — he had been dreading seeing his friends again and answering whatever questions they'd have — but he _had_ missed being around them, and the idea that his sudden absences — for any reason — wouldn't go unnoticed was somehow comforting.

He shrugged. "I don't know," he said simply, rolling over onto his other side now so he could look at Sirius. "I went to ask Professor McGonagall a question about what we'd been doing in Transfiguration that day, and I thought I heard something in the walls — well, I don't know, I was suddenly at St. Mungo's. It's all I can remember." The story was weak — Remus was sure it wouldn't stand up to more shrewd scrutiny — but it seemed to satisfy Sirius's curiosity quickly enough. 

"Well, you get to miss today, if you sleep through it, which I recommend, since double Potions this afternoon is bound to ruin our week. And you're lucky you got to miss most of the week, anyway, actually," Sirius said, kicking back in his chair. "Herbology was a right mess, you missed a great lesson there. But History of Magic was the worst, sometimes I really wonder whether Professor Binns died normally or he bored _himself_ to death, honestly," and he went on, recounting all the ridiculous happenings he had missed, certainly for far longer than the original five minutes permitted. Remus laid there and listened in delighted contentment, smiling up at his friend, and let himself slip into the first real sleep he'd had in days as Madam Pomfrey came rushing in and ushered Sirius out. 

When he awoke again, it was mid-afternoon, and Sirius was sitting at the foot of the bed, half a Chocolate Frog in his mouth. He alone seemed to notice Remus was awake — James and Peter were standing at the bedside table, apparently trying to determine the best wording for a rather obscene _get well_ card — and he dug in his pockets again for another Chocolate Frog, which he held out. "I ate the one I brought this morning," he said, sounding a little apologetic. "But here's another."

Remus pulled apart the packaging in his hands and let the little frog fall into his lap. He looked up at Sirius, sitting across from him on the bed, who pointed wordlessly at the frog, encouraging him to eat. "Thanks," he said quietly, and bit into the chocolate, savoring the sweet taste of a gift from a friend.

* * *

The train ride home was subdued. Peter sat in the far corner of their compartment, flipping his wand back and forth between his hands, his shifty eyes darting around between his three friends, as if trying to memorise their faces to last the entire summer. James was shuffling an Exploding Snap deck and showing off a variety of card tricks, mostly to Peter, who was the only one of them that repeatedly agreed to participate. Remus watched them over the top of his copy of _The Daily Prophet_. He hadn't read a single word in at least half an hour, choosing instead to use the paper as a way to hide his face while he, like Peter, observed his friends for what he felt like would be the last time in forever. Sirius, seated opposite, kept alternating between staring at him and watching James's mediocre card tricks. Remus wondered if he, too, was hanging onto the last moments he'd have with his friends for the next couple of months. It seemed that no one, aside from James, derived any particular delight from the thought of returning home. 

A movement outside the compartment caught Sirius's eye, and he leaned over to poke James. "Look, Snivellus is running after Evans."

James tossed his deck to the seat between them. Two cards fell to the floor and promptly exploded. "What's he always on her about? You'd think with the number of friends _she_ has, he'd leave her alone . . . ." He got up and stuck his head into the hallway. "I'm going to see what they're up to."

"You're going to _save her_ , you mean," Remus corrected, looking up from the same sentence he'd been reading for the last thirty minutes. 

"I'm not," James said. He frowned. "I just want to see what he wants with her. He's getting weirder, that one. Coming?"

Peter leapt up, but Sirius shook his head. "I'll wait for the food trolley to come by. You want anything?"

"Whatever's there," James said. "Alright, come on, Peter."

The compartment door slid shut behind them. Remus folded the _Prophet_ across his lap and stared back at Sirius. "What'd you send him after Severus Snape for?"

Sirius didn't say anything for a moment; his eyes were fixed on the hallway outside their compartment, watching for passersby. Then his gaze flickered back to Remus. "How're you feeling since last week?"

Remus felt his stomach twist. He'd told them he was sick again, a relapse of the unnamed illness he'd suffered back in November. "Fine," he said, after a lengthy pause. "I'm fine."

"Lucky you didn't miss the end-of-term feast."

"Yeah."

Sirius glanced out the compartment door again; seeing no one in sight, he sat back again and looked Remus straight in the eye. It was all Remus could do not to squirm. "Remus, you know we're — we're friends, right?"

"Of course." His heart seemed to jump with every beat. _He knows, he knows, he knows._ He wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and press pause on everything, to take a moment to savor this last moment of their friendship before it all went downhill. "Obviously."

"Can I ask you a question? A personal one, I mean?"

"I already told you," Remus said, forcing himself to keep his voice steady. He picked up the _Prophet_ again, shaking the pages out. "I can't visit over the holidays, I've got to take care of my mum. She's awfully sick — "

Sirius reached forward and snatched the paper out of Remus's hands. "You're a terrible liar," he said. "Look, I sent James and Peter on that rescue mission after Lily Evans for a reason. It doesn't seem like they've noticed how regularly you're ill — well, James remarked that you and your mum are always sick, but I don't think Peter's ever going to catch on unless you tell him — and I — I figured I'd ask."

"You haven't asked anything yet," Remus muttered miserably. He folded his arms across his chest as if they'd make him look more human. 

"I don't think I need to."

Remus felt like he was going to suffocate; the silence between them was impossible to break. His brain was melting, he couldn't think of anything to say, he wanted to throw the window open and jump out of the train. He was vaguely aware of Sirius, still watching him, waiting for him to say something. 

"Listen," Sirius said. Steeling himself, Remus chanced a glance up at his friend. He was still staring, but his eyes had taken on something else — they were soft and inviting, not accusatory. "I didn't ask so I could — I don't want to know what it's like, or anything, I don't want to ask questions and embarrass you. I won't tell James, or Peter, I swear."

Remus held his hand out for his copy of _The Daily Prophet._ Sirius opened his mouth, about to say something, but he handed the newspaper back wordlessly. Even as he retreated behind the cover of the paper, Remus could feel his eyes still fixed upon him. Finally, without daring to lower the shield in front of him, afraid of what he might hear, Remus spoke. "If you didn't want to ask me questions about it, why even ask me in the first place?"

Sirius picked up the Exploding Snap deck James had left and started shuffling it, clearly unbothered by either Remus's condition or his reaction. He shrugged. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't terminally ill, or something. It would be awful if I spent all this effort befriending you and you died halfway through your third year, you know." He leaned forward and pulled at the edge of the paper, just enough so his face was visible. "Look, you know I won't tell."

"I know," Remus breathed finally, just as the compartment door slid open again and James stepped over their legs, monologuing about Severus Snape. Sirius chucked the deck of cards at James; several cards exploded in the air and fluttered down between them. Peter, clearly flustered by whatever exchange had happened down the train, was nodding fervently in agreement after everything James said. The tension dissolved. 

Remus gave Sirius a gentle kick to catch his attention. "You thought I was going to die?" he mouthed, while James continued rambling on. "Seriously?"

Sirius shrugged again and winked, a grin already tugging at the corners of his mouth. Remus shook his head and lifted the _Prophet_ again, skimming over another article; tears were forming in his eyes and he didn't want to explain himself. Sirius had seen him struggling to keep up the weight of his own lies and offered him a hand. He was keeping his secret safe; the burden had been lifted. They were still friends. He could barely contain his joy.

* * *

The first full moon of the term approached far too quickly for Remus's liking. He was so _happy_ to be back at school, to be surrounded by his friends and free of his parents' fussing, it was so magical that he nearly allowed himself to forget the inevitable. As the day drew closer, he found himself less and less interested in James and Sirius's idiocy, unable to explain his sudden change in mood to any of his friends, though Sirius offered comforting smiles whenever no one else was looking. 

Two nights before the full moon, Remus woke with a start, shaking with the effort of containing his breathing. He sat up and peeled his shirt off, wrinkling his nose at the sudden chill of the air against his bare chest and back, drenched in sweat. A smattering of scars under his ribs prickled; he gasped, grabbing at it as if he could make it stop. The faintest sliver of moonlight was visible through the hangings around his bed. He shuddered. The cold fist that always seemed to hover near, waiting to grab at him, was starting to close over his stomach . . . he pulled back the hangings an inch and peered through the rest of the dark room, squinting to make out the shadowy shapes of his friends in their own beds, peacefully asleep. 

Remus threw himself back down on his own bed and squeezed his eyes shut with his hands over his face, trying to clear his mind. His dreams had been fraught with visions of his James and Peter and Sirius: their torn bodies lying at his feet, while he stared in horror at his own bloodied body, his hands flickering back and forth between what they were supposed to be and some horrible pair of claws that he couldn't even recognize as his own. He lifted his hand in front of his face again, tracing its shape with his eyes, trying to remember what he looked like. A number of excuses for his impending absence was already beginning to materialise in his mind — _my Uncle Cygnus is getting married in Belgium and I had to attend his wedding_ seemed usable, he thought — but the prospect of falling behind in classes so early in the term kept gnawing at him. 

He checked his watch and sighed; it was just past midnight. There were at least six more hours of restless sleep and nightmares to be had. For a moment, the idea of working ahead in his classes crossed his mind and he considered digging out his textbooks, maybe going down into the common room to get some work done — he wouldn't be able to get any of it done at the weekend — but then he realized he had no idea what had been planned for the next classes' homework. With another glance around the moonlit dormitory, Remus pulled his shirt back on and stepped out of bed quietly. He'd find Professor McGonagall and ask, he decided, she'd understand, might even be pleased to find that he was so interested in studying, even if he wasn't supposed to be awake at this hour.

The corridors were silent, save for some hushed conversations amongst a few of the paintings, and Remus held his breath after every step, listening for anyone else. It didn't feel like breaking the rules, he wasn't planning on doing anything except asking a professor a question, but he still didn't want to come across Filch, who was undoubtedly the one person that would punish him for something so innocent. But no one appeared, and Remus was relieved to see light coming from McGonagall's office when he arrived, for he wasn't sure where he would've gone if she wasn't still up.

"Mr. Lupin," she said, surprised, spotting him in the doorway before he'd even knocked. "What are you doing awake at this hour? Is" — she glanced at the calendar on her desk, where Lupin could see an array of planets and moons revolving around each other, and he knew what she was thinking — "is someone ill?"

Remus shook his head. "Nothing's wrong," he said, although he thought there was quite a lot to say on that matter, "but I was just wondering if you knew what would work I would be missing over the next few days."

Professor McGonagall frowned. "Am I right in thinking that you are asking me for work while you — you are _ill_? Because I am afraid, Remus, that I cannot in good conscience require you to perform any additional work while you are — " and she broke off, lips pursed. 

Remus was taken aback. He, nor any of his friends, had ever viewed Professor McGonagall as a particularly affectionate woman, but as he looked back at her there was a note of tenderness in her otherwise severe eyes. "I can't keep missing class during the day, I can't keep making up so many stories and lying to — "

"That decision is not mine to make," she said stiffly, though the lines around her mouth seemed to be softening. 

"Professor Dumbledore, then," Remus suggested hopefully. "I'll go to that — that shack in the evenings to transform, I'll stay there during the night — but they keep asking me where I am during the day, Professor, I don't know what to tell them — " Feeling the knot from his stomach rising into his throat, he stopped himself before his voice could crack and betray his desperation.

Professor McGonagall stared at him for another moment, then stood. "Very well. You can discuss this with the Headmaster," she said, and beckoned at Remus, who stood rooted to the spot, shocked that it had been so easy. "Come."

Remus had only ever been to Dumbledore's office once, at the start of the term a year ago, when the Headmaster had explained to him what he would be doing every month for the next seven years. The adrenaline and fear that had initially awoken him an hour ago was starting to wane; he followed Professor McGonagall blindly, barely keeping track of their steps, and thought he nearly nodded off for a fraction of a second when they reached the stone gargoyles guarding the Dumbledore's study.

"Professor Dumbledore," Professor McGonagall said, rapping on his door and entering in one swift movement. 

Dumbledore spun around to face them; the men and women in the portraits behind him retreated further into their portraits. "Minerva, you're still — _ah._ Hello, Remus."

His name sounded so foreign and odd coming from the Headmaster that Remus almost twitched. It was impossible to imagine a man besides his own father addressing him so courteously, and even then, his father only ever sounded forlorn and distant, almost disappointed — certainly not pleasantly surprised by his presence, as Dumbledore appeared to be. "Professor Dumbledore . . . ."

"Sit down. Minerva, if we could have a moment . . . thank you for bringing Mr. Lupin here to see me." Professor McGonagall nodded shortly and backed out of the office, closing the door behind her. "Now, Remus, if I may hazard a guess towards your reason for finding me tonight . . . the full moon is approaching. Am I correct in thinking you've come to ask about what you should do when you transform?"

Remus started to shake his head, then realized Dumbledore _was_ partially right and stopped. "Professor, I wanted to ask if I might be able to — to come back — to the castle, I mean — during the day."

"You miss your friends," Dumbledore finished, steepling his fingers under his chin. Remus nodded. "You want to make your absences as unnoticeable as possible . . . is it because you fear you are missing time with them? Or is it fear they will find out about your condition?"

The question felt like a heavy blow to his throat. Remus swallowed, trying to think of which answer to choose, but before he could say anything, Dumbledore continued, "I wonder if it has occurred to you, Remus, that your friends' relationship with you might not be conditional on your full-fledged humanity?"

"Sirius knows," Remus said. "He asked me on the train home last summer."

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "I see. I must admit, I did not think he would be the first to make the connection. I thought, perhaps, Mr. Potter would, given his proclivity to draw conclusions rather quickly."

"I can't keep making up stories about having to go home, or to St. Mungo's, or to visit family," Remus said miserably. "And to have to catch up on the classes I've missed, and spending time in the hospital wing every month! I can't lie to them."

"I'm sure you understand, Remus, that this is a matter of safety for the rest of the students." Remus hung his head; Dumbledore was right and he knew it. "And furthermore, I should think your friends would ask _more_ questions if they saw you during the day while you mysteriously disappear during the night. Until I can guarantee the safety of your peers in class, I regret to say that it would irresponsible of me to allow you to return to class during the day. And it certainly would not be beneficial to you, at any rate, if you are still feeling unwell during the day." The man reached up to adjust his spectacles, and Remus saw that his eyes, at least, were sympathetic, that Dumbledore did truly mean that he was sorry. "However, if you are simply concerned about managing your lessons during the full moon, I am sure something can be arranged so that you may complete your coursework without falling too far behind."

"Yes," Remus murmured in agreement, although very little of what Dumbledore was saying had actually stuck in his mind. He was back to running through scenarios to offer James and Peter.

"Very well, then, I suggest you get some rest while you still can. I trust you can find your way back to your own dormitory. And — Remus? I hope you won't forget what I've said. If the Sorting Hat has performed its job correctly — as I am sure it has — I find it very unlikely that your friends' loyalty and friendship to you would be tested by something has trivial as your condition. Good night."

* * *

It seemed that the year was destined to be as cruel as possible to Remus. His transformation in September had left him with a particularly nasty set of scratches along his legs, which he sheepishly lied about to Peter, citing a rather poor encounter with his Uncle Cygnus's new wife's cats. Peter had nodded — "Never got along well with cats myself," he said, as if it was perfectly natural to have such markings from a housecat — and passed on the story to James, who seemed skeptical but still relayed it to Sirius anyway. Sirius had raised his eyebrows and opened his mouth, but apparently thought better of it and said nothing.

He missed James's first Quidditch match in October, citing another trip home to see his mother ("She's really ill, my dad doesn't know what's wrong with her," he'd said — "Maybe it's a blood curse, you two, you should ask," Sirius had offered, coming to his rescue). By November, James didn't bother asking where he'd gone, but merely looked at Remus with pointed concern when he returned to the Great Hall for meals. 

Transforming in December at home was a welcome relief, though the chocolate Remus's mother offered him every morning sent a pang in his heart as he remembered that first Chocolate Frog. Sirius had offered to visit him in the hospital wing when they were at school — "If Madam Pomfrey brings you back to the castle in the mornings, I could always steal away before James and Peter get up, and visit you for a few minutes if you'd like," he suggested one day, noting the pallor that indicated the impending full moon — but Remus had said a firm no: he couldn't make Sirius start actively lying to their friends too.

So Remus awoke Christmas morning, relieved to have another month's full moon over with, to a flurry of cards and various parcels from his friends, all carrying a variety of stupid pranks and games they could test out once they were reunited at the start of the spring term. Sirius sent him a box of Chocolate Frogs without a note, but Remus still couldn't hold back his grin when he saw them. He ate one immediately, savoring the chocolate as it melted in his mouth, just as he'd done before. A hint of the joy he'd felt on the return train last term swelled up in his heart; he felt as if Sirius asking him about it without even mentioning his condition by name was the best thing that could have ever happened to him.

But the ease and comfort of the winter holidays ended almost immediately when he returned to Hogwarts: the next full moon was upon him, and his anxiety was increasing so quickly and with such intensity that he could barely sleep, and when he did, it always ended in nightmarish visions of his friends either lying dead at his feet or abandoning him inside the Shrieking Shack, locking him in and trapping him forever. His distraction didn't go unnoticed — most of his professors refrained from saying anything, but James kept asking if he felt alright and Peter kept encouraging him to eat at meals despite his decided lack of appetite. 

The full moon was approaching fast, so fast, and he wasn't ready to face it. But Thursday came, and his lessons drifted by in a string of unintelligible words, muffled by the dread mounting in his stomach and inside his brain, and just before dusk, Remus set off for the spot where he was to meet Madam Pomfrey before being escorted to his hiding spot. 

It was the worst transformation he'd had in months, maybe years. Remus fought the urge to start sobbing when dawn broke and he opened his eyes, shivering and shaking on the ground of the dismal shack, staring at the peeling wallpaper on the walls in front of him. His head throbbed and he lifted a hand to it self-consciously, wondering if he'd hit it himself or if it was just the strain of the night. He couldn't remember anything that had happened, but a glance in the stained mirror showed a sorry display of deep gashes on his chest and a fresh set of bite marks, already beginning to bruise, along his shoulders. Perhaps it was the miserable anticipation in the days leading up to it that made it so painful, he thought, dragging himself to his feet and nearly bursting into tears at the pain rippling along his spine. He longed to be out in the open, traipsing through the grounds with James and Peter and Sirius, or at least home, with his mother to comfort him . . . . 

Remus collapsed onto the bed, still shaking, and laid down. He was vaguely aware of Madam Pomfrey standing over him, clucking while she wiped the stained blood from his arms. He tried to imagine himself in ten, fifteen, twenty years, sitting in a dismal room by himself, tearing up the walls and his own body, tried to imagine himself in fifty, sixty, years . . . he closed his eyes and opened them almost immediately, alarmed by the mental image of destroying himself until nothing remained. Would they miss him? Surely they would know by then, surely he would be unable to keep the secret from them for so long, unless he left them before he could give himself away. So it _would_ just be him, he thought, a sorry little monster, for the rest of his life. He couldn't even begin to count how many more nights he'd have to spend like this.

The golden light shining in through the boarded-up windows when he woke again, finally lucid, suggested he only had a few more hours before he would be forced to relive it all. He couldn't bear it, the thought of his life just being one endless cycle like this, over and over, scars over scars over scars, on and on until he died. How easy it would be to run free and not worry about who he was or the consequences of his actions; he wished he could be like James, giving professors cheek and vandalising the bathrooms and going after Severus Snape without a care in the world for what would happen afterwards. 

He watched as the rays receded, dimming, counting down the minutes until he would have to give up his last shred of sanity again. It repeated: another night that left him nothing an ugly series of scratches all the way up his back, another morning of half-crawling into bed while his body screamed in protest, another afternoon of wondering what kind of life he possibly could live. And again: another vacant, foggy hole in his memory, another painstaking journey across the floor to the bed, another afternoon racked with sobs and desperately wishing for it to be over. And again.

Remus had perhaps never been happier to see Madam Pomfrey when she roused him, at last, on the third morning, quickly tucking her wand away and helping him to his feet when she spotted the brutal new markings across his body. The sun had risen already and was visible over the horizon, though a morning mist hung in the air, leaving the grounds looking positively grey. He was glad for the gloom; it took longer than usual for them to make their way up to the castle, but the thick fog felt like a cover, and for once he followed her to the hospital wing without a word, collapsing immediately into the bed that she pointed at.

"That was a long one," she clucked sympathetically, dabbing at the gashes on his chest with dittany. Remus groaned, throwing a hand across his face to block out the sun as it started filtering through the windows. "Come on, now, let's have a look at your back. It seems worse than usual."

Remus winced as she touched his back. "It was," he mumbled.

"Well, I'm sure you know by now that I can't let you return to class like this." Remus said nothing but nodded. He didn't think his body would let him get up even if he wanted to. "I want to see these start to heal properly before I release you — this one is really very deep, I'm afraid it will scar — and you look as if you need some proper sleep. I'll get you a potion." And as Madam Pomfrey stood there, hands on her hips, watching as he drained the draught she'd given him, Remus felt gratitude welling up within him once again. He tried to say something, thought he maybe managed a feverish _thank you_ , but she only smiled brusquely at him and then bustled off, leaving him alone again.

Voices — his friends, he thought — pulled at him. They weren't the same, disembodied, distorted voices that spoke to him in his dreams, they sounded like real voices, real people who would speak to him if he tried. His heart leapt; they were coming to lead him out of the shack, he could hear them nearby, at the tips of his fingers, _so close_ . . . .

"He looks terrible."

"James!"

"What? It's true, he looks like he's mixed together the kitchen waste and eaten it."

"That's disgusting and _far_ too descriptive."

"He's just tired, that's all."

"He's _more_ than tired, look at him. There's something seriously wrong, he's gone almost every month . . . did you know he was this sick, Sirius?"

"He's working too hard, I think. You've seen him in the common room, he's doing extra work in Transfiguration right now . . . ."

"Peter's right, James. I think it's exhaustion."

 _Sirius!_ That was the owner of the voice. It was his friends, they were coming to get him, James and Peter and Sirius, coming along that dark corridor to help him out. He reached out for them, they were so close; a hand folded into his and he took it, ready to leave the dark and dismal shack . . . .

He opened his eyes, blinked, then blinked again. It was dark again — not the darkness of his dream, he could see the sky through the windows, deep blue, the waning moon just barely visible, hanging over the Forest in the distance. He'd been asleep — _the whole day_ , he hadn't slept after a transformation like that in a while — 

"Remus!"

He blinked again. Sirius was sitting on the bed next to him. It was his hand he'd taken without realizing; grateful for the dim lighting in the hospital wing, Remus flushed, but Sirius didn't seem to think there was anything odd about holding hands. "Don't take this the wrong way, but you're in terrible shape." Behind him, Peter nodded, eyes wide. 

"Still tired." Remus struggled to sit up, wincing when he felt the wounds on his back threatening to break open again. Sirius raised his eyebrows and squeezed his hand once before dropping it and turning away, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"I asked Professor McGonagall where you were this morning because we hadn't seen you in days and she said you'd been sent up here again," James said from the other side of the bed. "Madam Pomfrey said you'd been to St. Mungo's again. We've been giving you such shit for the last couple months, why didn't you tell us you were this sick, mate?"

Remus drew his knees to his chest and hunched over them, ignoring the ache in his joints. "I'm not," he muttered. "Sirius and Peter are right, I — I think I've just been working too hard, and I'm paying the price."

Sirius stood. "Remus," he said quietly, "you know — you know we're your friends, right?" He stared down at Remus with the same expression he'd worn when they'd been on the train home, asking for a truthful answer. "You know James and Peter are — and I'm — we're — you can tell us stuff. If you're not — if — things are bad, you know — you can — you — "

James looked up at him. "Sirius, what's wrong with you? What are you trying to say?"

"I mean — " Sirius buried his face in his hands. "Remus, please, come on. Just tell us — _them_ — it's getting worse. You're making yourself ill now, you're not doing yourself any favours."

James's gaze swung back and forth between Sirius and Remus for a minute. "No," he breathed slowly, comprehension lighting up his face. "You're . . . " — he pointed up at Sirius — "and you knew?" His face broke into a wide smile, and Remus stared, amazed, flustered by the absence of immediate hatred. "I can't believe it took me so long to figure out!"

Peter's brow furrowed. "What?" He spun around, pivoting between the three of them, waiting for some sort of answer. "What's going on?"

Remus hung his head and hugged his knees closer. "I'm a werewolf," he said heavily, waiting for the blankets to rise up and swallow him, smother him to death. His face was burning now. "I've been leaving the castle to go transform elsewhere so I don't hurt anyone around me . . . it's the only way I'd be allowed to continue studying here — "

"Sirius, you knew about this? For how long?!"

"I guessed it about a year ago and asked him about it on the train, on the way home. I told him I wouldn't tell _you_ , that was up for him to decide — Remus — Remus, don't do that. Come on, none of us are about to go blabbing to the entire school that our best friend is a cool — "

Remus choked out the sob that was caught in his throat. "But that's the _point_ ," he said, lifting his head. His skin prickled. "I'm not your best friend, I'm only half-human, I'm a monster — "

Sirius shook his head and pushed Peter aside so he could stand closer to the bed. "That's not true, Remus."

"It is! The cuts and scratches and bruises you're always asking about, they're not from cats, Peter, and I can't believe you even _believed me_ when I said that, it's just me in the Shrieking Shack, tearing myself to pieces — I can't even remember what I do to myself in there — "

"Remus, the only reason I can think of for you to be trying to convince us you're a _monster_ , is that _you_ think we should stop being friends with you. But I think it's pretty obvious that you're the only one who thinks that," James interrupted. He pointed around the little quartet, first at himself, then at Peter and Sirius, who both nodded. "You don't have to keep making up stories, you know. Doesn't that make you feel better already?"

With a grudging sigh, Remus sat back. His friends beamed at him — Peter continuing to nod fervently, James's eyes shining so brightly, Sirius looking exceptionally pleased. They continued staring at each other in utter silence until Remus's frown finally softened and he met their grins. The moment was cut short suddenly by the arrival of Madam Pomfrey, who appeared horrified to find that not only were there students still congregated around Remus's bed, but that they had woken him up and were talking to him. "You shouldn't be here!" she exclaimed, swatting them away. "It's late, you should be back in your houses! Go on, you can talk to him tomorrow, he doesn't need to be disturbed like this — "

"We weren't _disturbing_ him!" James protested, but he went anyway, ducking when Madam Pomfrey swatted at him. He shot a wink at Remus. "Come on, Peter."

"Can I stay a little longer?" Sirius blurted, watching as Madam Pomfrey came after him next. "I haven't been up here at all this year, except for tonight."

"Please," Remus added. His spirits lifted at the very thought of Sirius keeping him company until he fell asleep again. "I haven't seen him in days."

Madam Pomfrey's nose wrinkled, as if finding the prospect of another person in the hospital wing positively repulsive, but she sniffed and nodded. "Very well," she said. "But you shouldn't be here past nine o'clock, Mr. Black. I don't want Professor McGonagall reporting you missing from her house while you're still here. And _nothing_ to disturb your friend, do you hear me?"

Sirius nodded, elated. He waited for her to go back into her office, then sat back down at the foot of the bed, toying with the blankets in front of him. "You sure you're alright?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

Remus shrugged. "It's nothing I haven't been through before," he said. 

"It's just — you looked worse today than the other times. And the full moon ended last night, and you're still" — Sirius gestured around them at the empty hospital wing — "here."

"Maybe it was worse than usual," Remus admitted. "But I think it was because I was worrying too much about James and Peter finding out . . . you don't think they're actually angry, do you? Or that they — that they don't want to — "

"No," Sirius said firmly, cutting him off. Remus looked away. "I'm serious, Remus, I — we all still like you. James probably likes you even more now, I think he's always thought you're a bit quiet. Anyway, he's right, don't you already feel better knowing that you don't have to make up excuses anymore?"

Remus didn't answer for a moment. He didn't want to think about it. "I just want it to stop," he said, burying his face in his hands. He couldn't bear to look at Sirius. "I don't want to do this anymore. You have no idea — when I was by myself, all I could think about was having to do this for the rest of my life — I can't stand — "

"Bit existential," Sirius said lightly, but his eyes were heavy. He edged closer along the bed and touched Remus's hand. "Come on, don't worry about that now, Remus, look — I don't know how else to tell you — you've got us, you know. It's like I said, if things are bad — well, we're not going to let you live out the rest of your life all miserable and alone, you know."

Remus stared at their hands. There was a fraction of space, less than a millimetre, between them. His fingertips itched; he resisted the urge to curl his hand into a fist and draw back. "I thought I had a dream about you," he said suddenly.

Sirius's face brightened. "Really? What was it?"

"It was — it was all of you, actually, James and Peter were there too, I think" — Sirius's face was considerably _less_ bright — "honestly, I don't even think it was a dream, because Madam Pomfrey gave me that potion. But I think I was already waking up, just now, when you three came, and I — I heard your voices, and I think I thought I was still in the shack where they take me, and I was — I was trying to follow you. I thought you were coming to get me. That's why I grabbed your hand, I think."

Sirius grinned again. "Oh, so _that's_ what that was. I thought it was funny, you kept grabbing at nothing so I stuck my hand there and you took it." He glanced down at their hands, too, apparently noticing how close they were for the first time. Then he pulled back his own to check his watch. "I think I should probably go before Madam Pomfrey chases me out," he said, but he didn't stand. "And you should probably get some sleep. You look like you could do with it."

"You're going?"

Mischief lit up Sirius's face, as if he'd been hoping for Remus to protest. "Not if you don't want me to."

Remus felt like his insides were filling with honey, warm and soothing and sweet. "Okay — well, I don't want you to. Not yet, anyway. Come on, tell me what I've missed in class."

Sirius rolled his eyes. " _Class_!" he repeated. "Four days, you can't even remember your own name, and you're worrying about what you've missed in _class_." He inched even closer. "Okay. Let me think."

Madam Pomfrey emerged from her rooms the next morning to find Remus Lupin, for once, peacefully asleep. Only the tiniest of creases between his brows showed any indication of discomfort, but his mouth hung slightly open, jaw slack, his sleep apparently undisturbed by pain. Sirius Black lay next to him on top of the covers, turned on his side, one hand on Remus's shoulder. For a moment, she opened her mouth, ready to admonish him for taking up space in the bed, but at that moment Remus inhaled sharply and shifted, still blissfully unaware of the morning, and she closed her mouth again, and watched, half-amazed and half-admiring, as the two boys continued to sleep, faces turned carefully towards each other, basked in daylight.

* * *

Remus thought James had been right when he'd said that full moons ought to be better now that there was no fear of any of them finding out. His transformations still left him dazed and shaken, covered in scratches and bruises that he painstakingly kept hidden — his friends still didn't know how painful it was, and he didn't need them to know anyway — but not in the same way as after the full moon in January. His time alone in the Shrieking Shack was almost bearable now, cheered by occasional visits from James and Sirius and Peter, who would steal down in the afternoons, after classes and after Madam Pomfrey had already visited, emerging from underneath James's Invisibility Cloak to sneak him biscuits, coaxing him to eat even despite his waning appetite. The summer was almost dull without them, though Sirius regularly sent him an owl bearing some sort of chocolate after the full moon passed, and Remus always savored it with delight, counting down the days until he could see him back at school again. 

Madam Pomfrey released him from the hospital wing in the late morning when the first full moon of the term had passed, remarking on how much milder his injuries seemed than before, to which Remus had shrugged nondescriptly and hurried off, eager to see his friends again. Lunch had already begun, and Peter was waiting for him at the entrance to the Great Hall, grabbing his arm and dragging him over to the far end of the Gryffindor table, where James and Sirius were hunched over something.

"What's all this, then?" Remus asked, sliding into the seat next to Sirius. 

Peter sat down across from him, barely able to contain his excitement. "James thinks he's got a plan."

" _Shh_!" James hissed. "Lower your voice, Peter, or do you want McGonagall swooping down on us before we've even got started?" Peter whispered a sheepish _sorry_ , though he didn't look particularly sorry, and Sirius and James took little notice. "Look, Sirius and I were thinking last night, what if there was a way for us to visit you _during the night_?"

"No," Remus said, but Sirius shook his head, his eyes shining. 

"It's not what you _think_ we're thinking of," he said gleefully. 

"I _think_ you're suggesting that you visit me in the Shrieking Shack _while I am a mindless monster that will destroy you_! So I would _hope_ the answer is no!"

James spun the book around on the table until it was facing Remus. "I stole this out of the Restricted Section of the library last night." Remus shot him a withering look, which he ignored. "It's about Animagi. Human transfiguration, you know."

Light slowly dawned on Remus as he realized what James and Sirius were suggesting. He glanced down at the book, which was open to an illustration clearly depicting a faulty Animagus transfiguration; the man appeared to have only the beak and feet of an eagle, but no other bird-like features. "Look," Sirius said, leaning forward on his elbows. "Werewolves are only violent towards humans, so if we could do this, we'd be able to spend time with you. You wouldn't have to be alone."

Remus frowned. "I'm not letting you risk getting turned into a half-human mutant so that you can spend time with me while I don't even know my own name," he said. "Animagi transformation is a terribly difficult process, or haven't you heard Professor McGonagall?"

"Come on, it's not that bad," James said. He closed the book with a loud _snap_ and stuffed it in his bag, out of sight. "I mean, where's your sense of fun? Adventure? Risk?"

Remus looked around the table, astonished by the cavalier attitude of his friends. Even Peter was nodding and smiling with excitement, bolstered by James and Sirius's reckless confidence. "You don't need to do that for me," he said finally. "I'd feel terrible if something went wrong. Coming to visit me during the day is already enough." Sirius raised his eyebrows, apparently unconvinced. "Come on, just forget it."

Sirius shrugged. "Okay," he said, exchanging glances with James. "Just think about it, won't you?" Then he checked his watch and stood, pushing away from the table. "I've got to go speak to Professor McGonagall about my detention. Peter and James can fill you in." He winked. "You missed an awful riot in class yesterday, Remus."

Remus did think about it. It was hard not to. He thought about it every time he was led through the dark crawl space to the Shrieking Shack, every time he watched the light outside dimming and counted down the seconds until he lost control. When he awoke in the mornings, sweating and shaking, he thought about it, about what it would be like to be greeted by his friends instead of the aching solitude in which he found himself. He thought about it when his friends stole up to the hospital wing before breakfast after every full moon, when Professor McGonagall mentioned Animagi in class and James and Sirius looked back at him with mischievous grins. James was right: once the idea had been planted, its appeal was almost irresistible — almost, except for the possibility, which loomed, big and dark, in his mind, that he might be asking his friends to do something that could ruin their lives. 

The full moon in December left him even more exhausted than usual — he expected this, with some apprehension, when Professor Stjärna enthusiastically encouraged everyone to take note of its unusually large size that week in Astronomy — and Madam Pomfrey let him sleep it off in the hospital wing for the entire morning, well into the afternoon. He slept fitfully — a new, nasty set of claw marks on his back stung horribly every time he rolled onto them by accident — and dreams of his friends, stuck in the half-completed transfiguration illustrations from the book James had stolen, kept coming to the front of his mind. It was nearly evening again by the time he abandoned the effort.

"Giving up on the sleep?"

Remus sat up. A couple of joints cracked with the effort. Sirius was sitting next to the bed, trying to balance his chair on its two back legs; he grinned when Remus saw him. "James has Quidditch practice and Peter's watching. Thought I'd come up here since you hadn't come back to class yet."

Remus frowned. "What? How long have you been here?"

"An hour and a half." Remus made a sound of horror and started to protest — "You _sat here_ for an _hour and a half_?!" — but Sirius only laughed. "Madam Pomfrey said not to wake you, so I didn't. Don't worry, I'm not bored. You were fun to watch."

"You _watched_ me?"

"Yeah," Sirius said, still laughing, though his face sobered quickly. "Didn't look very peaceful, though. You seemed to have a lot on your mind . . . not a very good transformation, then?"

Remus didn't answer. Sirius seemed to take this as an answer in itself. "Can I ask?" he said, voice low. "What it's like?"

"I don't really — I don't really know," Remus said. "The sun sets, and the moon comes out, I guess, and — I just — I don't know what happens at all until morning . . . it's like someone — something else takes over, and I can't even watch what's happening — someone Obliviates me — I — I don't know — I just go from one moment to the next, and everything in between is so fuzzy. It barely exists to me. It's like — like waking up from a nightmare that I can't really remember. I can't keep track of what happens in between — there's nothing to do but — "

Sirius reached out, and Remus thought he was about to take his hand, but he apparently thought better of it and let it fall to the bed, awkwardly empty. Remus pretended not to notice. The skin on his palm prickled. "Does it hurt?" Sirius whispered.

Remus sucked in a breath. It hadn't even occurred to him that there was so much that they — he — Sirius — didn't know about what it was like. A life where he didn't measure the passage of time by the fading of scars seemed so impossible. "Yeah," he murmured. He chanced a look up at Sirius, whose eyes were wide, unexpectedly soft and tender, a departure from his usual callous attitude. "With no one around to — to attack" — the word felt heavy, uncomfortable in his mouth, he wanted to take it back as soon as he said it — "by myself . . . well, I can't — I don't have control over what I do. I can usually figure out what's happened when I wake up . . . that's why Madam Pomfrey has to see me every morning — making sure I don't — well, bleed to death, I suppose — " He broke off.

"You bite yourself," Sirius finished, letting out a shuddering breath. "With no one around to attack, you attack yourself."

Remus glanced down at their hands again, daring to let his move a little closer. He wanted Sirius to hold his hand again, to bring back the sensation of touch that he so hungered for. The memory of falling asleep with Sirius next to him, one hand on his shoulder, flashed in his mind; he wanted to go back to the start of the year and relive the moment when he thought he was being pulled out of the Shrieking Shack, when Sirius had folded their hands together. It had felt so _safe_ , so comforting and gentle, an anchor to his humanity.

"Those scratches, on your legs," Sirius said. "At the beginning of the year, you told Peter they weren't from your uncle's cat. You did that to yourself, didn't you?"

Remus nodded miserably. He could feel Sirius's gaze roaming over his body, looking for hiding places, for more evidence of the monstrosity he was. The wounds on his back, so freshly carved into his skin the night before, burned. Sirius's fingers crept forward until their hands were touching at their fingertips. Remus flushed and turned away. 

"Want to see something cool?" Sirius said suddenly, with unexpected verve, although his expression was still one of grave sincerity. 

"Not if it's also gross," Remus muttered.

"Well, you can decide for yourself." Sirius stuck out his right hand, palm up, and lit his wand over it. "Can you see it? I think it's almost gone, but if you look close enough you can see." The skin tightened across the center of his palm in a bumpy, thick white line. Remus nodded; Sirius extinguished his wand tip and kicked back in his chair again. "Gift from my parents. There's two, actually, one from each of them, but I don't know if you can see clearly enough."

Remus nearly choked on air. " _What_? Sirius, your parents — "

"It's nothing, really, I've had worse," Sirius said dismissively, clearly unaware of how that _was_ worse. "No, it was their way of congratulating me on being sorted into Gryffindor a few years ago. They couldn't wait for me to come home at the end of the year so they could tell me how disappointed they were. Neat, isn't it?"

"Sirius, that's — "

"I'm not asking for sympathy, by the way," Sirius said. Remus narrowed his eyes at the edge to his voice. "Really. I just thought you should see, you know. A couple of scars isn't anything to be ashamed about, Remus. I'm pretty sure James noticed them when we first got back our second year — they were a lot redder then, I think — and he was pretty much the only one. Not even you noticed. James barely took notice anyway. So just so you know — will you stop giving me that look? — if you're — I don't know, nervous or something — if you're worried about someone seeing them and pitying you, or something, there's nothing to worry about."

It _was_ an oddly comforting thought to Remus, the idea that the ugly assortment of markings that criss-crossed over his back and ribs and stomach and everywhere else on his body was barely noticeable. But he could barely contain his indignance at the thought of Sirius getting lashed by his parents. "That's not exactly what I would call _cool_ ," he said, frowning. "Alarming, maybe."

Sirius shrugged, indifferent, and went back to trying to balance his chair on two legs. "Well, whatever you want to call it. I just thought you should know that it's not as big of a deal as you think. You being a werewolf, I mean."

"Okay," Remus said, still staring at Sirius.

"Anyway," Sirius said, standing, "I should let you go back to sleep before Madam Pomfrey yells at me." He paused. "Unless you want me to stay longer, in which case, you'll need to _really_ convince me, because I assume I'll just be watching you sleep again, and even though it's not boring, I'm not sure how I feel about missing James's Quidditch practice for it."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Just stay, please."

Sirius screwed up his face in mock thought. "Okay," he said, sitting back down and crossing his legs. "Turns out I don't need a lot of convincing."

Remus smiled, looking up at Sirius next to him. He closed his eyes and saw the now-familiar interior of the Shrieking Shack, his second home, ready to swallow him forever; he turned around and saw Sirius standing there, waiting for him, hand outstretched. He saw it now, the fading marks on the inside of his palm, felt the thin stripe of raised skin against his when he took Sirius's hand and trusted him to lead them into the open, out of the dark.

* * *

Pacing the train corridor, Remus could barely contain his excitement when he spotted Peter and Sirius already talking in a compartment. It felt like an eternity since he'd last seen them, and Peter's bright wave, coupled with Sirius's pleased nod of acknowledgement, suggested they were just as excited to see him. He closed the door behind him and threw his robes down on the seat across from Peter. "Where's James? Didn't you come to the station together?"

Sirius's face darkened for a fleeting moment, but the cloud lifted almost as soon as it settled. "No," he said. "Anyway, James is chasing after Lily Evans again. We saw her get on with Snivellus a few minutes ago and now James is throwing himself at her like the fool he is."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "You didn't come to the station together? Don't you usually spend the last week of the holidays together?"

"My parents vetoed it this year," Sirius said, his voice a little stiff. He rolled his eyes. "They claim he's _corrupting me_ , or something. He's going to destroy my purity. You know how they get."

"Oh." Remus found himself glancing at Sirius's hand without thinking. He started to ask Peter how his holidays were, then shut his mouth again. It seemed foolish to ask that question of anyone except James.

"Well, when he gets back, we've got news," Sirius continued, cheering up. "Just because my parents don't like the two of us being friends doesn't mean they can stop him from sending three owls a day to my house." 

As if on cue, the door slid open, and James tripped into the compartment, shaking his head. "I don't understand what Evans sees in Snivellus," he huffed. Then, spotting Remus as he slumped into the seat across from him, his face cracked into a smile. "Hey, Moony. How're you feeling about tonight? Shame you have to miss the feast."

Sirius grimaced. "James."

"No, it's fine." Remus grinned back at James. "I like having a nickname. No one's ever bothered to come up with one for _Remus_ before."

"See? He likes it." James turned to Remus. "Sirius and I have been thinking all summer about ways to help you" — Remus frowned, but James ignored him — "and we've figured out how to become Animagi."

"I thought I said no to that," Remus said, though his heart leapt with the knowledge that they still cared enough about him to even think about it. "It's too dangerous."

"That was when we all thought it was going to be _terribly difficult_ , or whatever you said," James scoffed. "No, Sirius and I think we have it all figured out, and it takes a while, and we have to be really careful, but it's doable. But we thought, once we've done it and become Animagi, we should have names for each other, you know, based on what we become. Obviously, we haven't decided yet, but since you already know what you're going to be . . . it doesn't have to be Moony — you can change it if you want — but it seemed like it fit."

Remus felt like someone was lighting his insides on fire. "I don't want you guys to do anything stupid."

Sirius snorted. "Remus, if we weren't doing something stupid it wouldn't be us. Look, we were serious last year when we told you to think about it. You can shake your head like that all you want, but it's not like _we_ don't want to do it." He ripped open a box of Every Flavour Beans and started tossing them in the air, catching them with his mouth. "The way I see it, there's three possibilities. One: it fails, and we end up looking like we belong in a Care of Magical Creatures class for the rest of our lives, which I frankly think would be hilarious. There's very little else I can do to incur my parents' wrath anyway. Two: it fails, but in the sense that nothing happens, in which case there's no harm done. Or _three_ , which is the most likely outcome, because you're lucky James and I have the _biggest brains_ in the year, maybe present company excepted" — James snickered and Remus rolled his eyes again — "we succeed, and we can come check up on you more often during full moons." He caught another bean in his mouth, started chewing, and pulled a face. 

"I already told you, I don't even know what's going on myself when I change."

"That's probably because you've got nothing to do. I'd go crazy if it was just me, alone, all night like that." James dug around his bag and produced a sheaf of parchment. "Anyway, there's nothing to lose, really, so we're going ahead with this regardless of what you say. It's fun, it's risky, and I bet it'll help you out loads. Besides, like I said, Sirius and I already spent the summer figuring out how to become Animagi."

"It was more like _James_ doing all the work," Sirius said. "He just passed on the information to me. His parents have got loads of books, and they don't care if he looks up stuff like that. My parents would want to know why I'm bothering with anything besides wooing one of my distant cousins."

Remus wrinkled his nose, and James frowned. "You've got to get out of there," he said, shuffling the parchment back in order and tucking it away again.

"Well, I'm trying." Sirius caught another bean in his mouth. "They're getting more fanatic by the day."

Remus tried to imagine what Sirius's holidays were like. None of them ever bothered to exchange notes on their summers, with the exception of recounting any escapades James and Sirius had gotten up to in the last weeks they'd spent together. The little scars Sirius had shown Remus the year before stuck out in his mind; he couldn't rid himself of the thought that maybe Sirius's home life was even worse than his own. 

"Will you come visit me in the hospital wing once the moon's over later this week?" Remus asked, a few hours into the train ride, when James left the compartment to hunt down a classmate, taking Peter with him.

Sirius glanced up from the copy of _The Daily Prophet_ that he was perusing — he'd been doodling on the pictures for the last twenty minutes, adding profane speech bubbles to every other photograph. "Do you want me to?"

"Yeah."

"Okay. I'll come in the morning, then." He folded up the newspaper and tossed it onto the seat between them. "You sure you're okay?"

Remus shrugged. "Same as I usually am, this time of the month." He narrowed his eyes at Sirius. "You sure _you're_ okay?"

Sirius laughed. "I'm always okay."

"You don't have to say that," Remus said, toying with the edge of the paper. "I mean — you always tell me if something's not right, I can tell you — you know that works in reverse, right? If something's not right — or your parents, or your brother — "

"What, Regulus? He's not the problem — "

" — okay, well, your _parents_ — my point is, you don't — you don't have to pretend everything's fine if it's not," Remus said. "I mean, I can tell when you're holding back. You're not as good at hiding things as you think."

"It takes one to know one," Sirius quipped. "Well, thanks for the offer, Moony, but everything's fine, really. And — well, you have your own problems to worry about." He dug around in his pockets and held out another Chocolate Frog. "For you — for tomorrow morning."

Remus took the chocolate. "Thanks," he said.

Sirius nodded once and turned to face the window. He didn't speak for the rest of the train ride.

* * *

They all agreed that their Animagus transformations should be put on hold while they revised for their exams. The decision had initially come from James, after he'd managed to swallow and nearly choke on his Mandrake leaf whilst studying for the fifth time in three days, but Peter had immediately offered his fervent agreement — it appeared he was incapable of eating meals without also swallowing _his_ leaf — and, after seeing both James and Peter repeatedly failing, Sirius gave in and agreed to pause their until the year was over. 

Remus had to admit it was almost comical to watch as his friends — particularly James and Sirius, who spent as little effort on their homework as possible in order to devote the maximum amount of time on other ridiculous charades — struggled to do something he felt exempt from. It had eased the stress of the moon for the last several months, and it was even providing welcome relief from the pressure of their exams — though he was more preoccupied with the full moon due to follow.

"You know we're not going to give it up, though, right?" Sirius said. His voice was so low and close to Remus's ear that Remus nearly jumped and glanced furtively around the common room, looking for anyone that might be watching them. He looked up over his shoulder; Sirius was lying across an armchair, his legs kicked over the side, levitating his Potions textbook above his face. "We're going to become Animagi if it's the last thing we do."

Remus flushed scarlet with the knowledge that Sirius was so determined to do something for him. "I didn't think you were giving it up."

"Okay, good, because you've never seemed too thrilled about us doing this."

"I'm worried something will go wrong." Remus looked down at his Charms notes, scattered on the common room floor in front of him, then mumbled, "But I'd be lying if I said I didn't like the idea of — well, of you . . . being there."

"Well, that's the end goal." Sirius snapped his book shut with a lazy wave of his wand and reached forward, toying with Remus's hair absently. 

Remus froze, then jerked away and instantly regretted it. "What are you doing?"

"You've got something in your hair," Sirius said, pulling him back and picking out a piece of fuzz. "Keep your head on, honestly." He flicked it away, surveyed the common room to make sure no one else had any chance of eavesdropping, and leaned forward again. "Between you and me, I think I'd be able to do it, even with exams, but I don't think James's pride would be able to take it."

"Careful, Sirius, before your head starts growing bigger. Are you sure it's not _your_ pride we need to worry about?"

"Ha. Very funny, Moony."

As it turned out, Sirius was right. It was just over a month after the term had ended when Remus woke to the sound of scratching at his window: an owl, beating its wings against the glass, talons scrabbling against the sill. He threw open the window and it flew in, nearly taking out his eye in the process. 

"Okay, stay still, stay still," Remus muttered, still rubbing the sleep from his eyes while trying to wrestle the scroll of parchment from the owl's leg. The message was barely a few inches long, a tiny strip decorated with James's untidy scrawl, and he had to squint to read it clearly in the early morning light.

_MOONY —_

__

__

_Sirius has done it. Will send more later. Think I'm close behind. See you soon. James._

Remus nearly dropped the parchment in shock. He laid back on his bed and reread the message. So Sirius _was_ the first of them to succeed, just as he'd predicted; he must have started trying again right after exams ended, and he couldn't have messed up, Remus thought, counting the number of days that had passed since the end of the term on his fingers. He read the message a third time. _Think I'm close behind_ — James was presumably also working at it over the summer, then . . . an image of Sirius being there in the Shrieking Shack when dawn broke, James and Peter behind him, danced its way hopefully into Remus's mind . . . .

Remus held the letter up to his face, read it yet again, and frowned. Why hadn't Sirius written him directly? It wasn't like him to let someone else speak for him, not even James. The possibility that he might not care enough to bother writing himself stung, and Remus was surprised to find that James's message almost saddening. 

He sat up and, rifled through the trunk at the foot of his bed for spare parchment and his quill, and turned on his lamp. Hurt and irritation bubbled up as he began writing, but he tried to ignore it — maybe Sirius _had_ written, but his owl had gotten lost, or something. _James says you've done it. Hope everything's alright._ He added a thinking about you, then shook his head and crossed it out quickly. Can't wait to see you again.

"Come back here," Remus whispered through gritted teeth, chasing the owl about the room and catching it just as it hopped back on the windowsill, ready to leave again. "Take this" — he tied the parchment to its leg and cast about his room wildly for payment for James's letter — "to Sirius before you head back to James, alright?"

The owl hooted rather loudly and took off. Remus watched it go, then threw himself back upon his bed and scanned the letter James had sent him once more, still thinking about Sirius. Was he with James? Was that why James had written instead? He began to wish he'd written more to Sirius, then dismissed the thought. It would be impossible to get anything out of him in writing. 

A response arrived, days later, and Remus nearly tripped over himself in his hurry to let the owl in when it arrived, screeching outside the kitchen window to announce its presence. "Be _careful_ ," his mother exclaimed, stepping out of the way as the owl winged its way through the room and landed on the kitchen table, leg outstretched. Remus unrolled the parchment impatiently, turning away to hide his disappointment when he saw James's handwriting. 

_Got your owl. Sirius is with me, not really in the mood to write —_ Remus felt his stomach clench as the memory of Sirius showing off the scar on his hand flashed across his vision — _so thought I would let you know. Everything's OK. I'll let him explain later. Think you should come for the last week of holidays after the full moon. My parents would be happy to have you, let us know. James._

Convincing his parents took surprisingly little effort — "Oh, is James that boy you came off the train with? Not the one with the long hair, no — the other one — the Potter boy — his parents were _so_ lovely, just the kindest," his mother hummed — and Remus wrote back almost immediately, anxiety seizing him. _I'll let him explain later._ What was that supposed to mean? Why wouldn't Sirius write to him? It plagued him — he even caught moments of lucidity during that month's transformation where he worried about what could possibly be disturbing Sirius — and he nearly cried with relief when he arrived at the Potters' at the end of the moment and was greeted by James's lively whooping and Sirius standing awkwardly in the doorway, apparently unharmed, having avoided the worst-case scenario that kept unfolding in Remus's mind.

Sirius was uncharacteristically quiet, though, and James was even unusually sensitive, steering the conversation away from family and how Remus's holidays had been as they ate. After supper, he dragged both Remus and Sirius upstairs to his room, directed them to sit on the rug by his bed, and checked the hallway outside before locking the door behind him. "Finally," he huffed, joining Sirius and Remus on the floor. "Sorry my parents asked you so many questions, Moony. They're a little friendly." Sirius frowned, and James winced apologetically. "Sorry, Pads."

Remus raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Pads? _That's_ the nickname you came up with for his Animagus?"

The gloomy cloud hovering about Sirius seemed to lift for a bit as he looked up to meet Remus's gaze for the first time since they'd reunited. "Short for Padfoot," he said, standing. "Check it out." And before Remus's eyes, he morphed into a great black dog for a few seconds before returning to his human form and sitting back down. "Neat, right?"

Remus tried to keep himself from gaping. He'd been expecting Sirius to show off his accomplishment with great anticipation ever since James's first letter, but it had still felt so surreal. "That's — that's — " He cleared his throat. His friend had done this — managed a feat reserved for great wizards and witches — for him. "Sirius — I — "

"I think Moony's going to need a moment," James said drily. 

"Sirius — I mean — this is _amazing_ — I can't believe — " Remus buried his face in hands and looked up at his friend again, who was wearing a worn but still mildly pleased smile. "Thanks for — well, thanks for doing this for — for me."

Colour returned to Sirius's otherwise drained face and Remus thought he could detect a hint of a flush. The knot in his stomach that had been twisting around itself for the last few hours loosened. "Yeah, well, anything for you," Sirius said. He shook his hair out of his face. "Anyway, James isn't far behind."

"Just waiting for the right time for the spell," James said, grinning. "You'll see — this year's going to be a good one. We're going to have loads of fun, Moony. I can feel it."

* * *

As usual, James was right: the year _was_ shaping up to be a good one. He managed to complete his Animagus transformation barely a month into the term, and Peter finally finished his in November after six weeks of Sirius and James refusing to allow him to eat anything that he might confuse with the Mandrake leaf in his mouth and inadvertently swallow. Remus could hardly stop smiling the whole day after it happened; James had woken him and Sirius up at the crack of dawn for an early-morning walk around the grounds with Peter, who seemed unable to control himself and kept shifting between rat and human with every step. Even Sirius, whose mood had darkened considerably since the last term, cast aside his dour attitude and hostility as the next full moon approached.

"I don't think it's very fun to watch," Remus warned, a few hours before he was due to meet Madam Pomfrey. And indeed it wasn't: when he came to the next morning and James tried to pull him to his feet, he yelled in pain, and the three of his friends disappeared under James's Invisibility Cloak while Madam Pomfrey came to check on him and reset his dislocated shoulder. But the number of new wounds he sustained every night seemed to diminish, and though he opened his eyes every morning to aching joints and burning eyes, his friends were always there, undisturbed by whatever they'd seen him do the night before. He thought about what Dumbledore had said to him in his second year — _I find it very unlikely that your friends' loyalty and friendship to you would be tested by something has trivial as your condition_ — and for the first time since hearing those words, he believed it.

Professor McGonagall made her customary rounds through Gryffindor Tower at the start of December, taking down names of students who planned to stay through the holidays. Remus was startled to see Sirius approaching her, and even more so as he watched her mark down Sirius's name. He glanced around the common room, hoping to ask James about it, but both he and Peter were absent — "Quidditch, probably," Lily Evans said, with a sigh of exasperation that suggested James had tried to ask her out yet again that afternoon — and Professor McGonagall gave absolutely no indication of surprise at Sirius putting his name down. 

"Can you put mine down, too?" Remus asked, peering at her list. "I'm staying for the holidays."

Professor McGonagall gazed at him over the rim of her spectacles. "You?"

"Yeah," Remus said. He'd write to his parents, they would understand. "Sirius put his name down, didn't he?"

"Well, yes, Mr. Black is staying for the winter," she said, clearly flustered, "but I would advise you to consider carefully — "

"Then I'm staying with him," Remus said. "You can write to my parents, too, if you want."

Professor McGonagall frowned dubiously and added his name to her list with a twitchy scrawl that clearly indicated she _would_ be writing to his parents. At supper, Sirius reacted to the news that Remus would be staying at Hogwarts with him with a sceptical glance, as if he suspected there was an ulterior motive, but it quickly morphed into another rather pleased smile. Remus took it as a _thank you_ without comment, preferring not to ruin the fragile peace Sirius seemed to finally have reached.

James left his Invisibility Cloak for Sirius to use during the full moon while he was gone, and Remus was delighted when, just before dusk, Sirius emerged in the Shrieking Shack from thin air, the cloak shimmering in his hands. "Sorry it took me so long," he said apologetically, shaking his hair out of his face. His boyish grin was back; for once, he seemed genuinely happy. "Took me a while to get past the Whomping Willow without Peter's help."

Remus beamed. "Thanks for coming."

"I'd never miss an opportunity to be with you, Moony," Sirius said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Listen, before you change tonight — how d'you feel about going outside? Tonight? With me, I mean, to keep you — you know, in check. But we can go to the Forest and spend the night by the lake . . . I think it might be nice for you to transform outside instead of in here, you know."

The temptation was so strong Remus couldn't refuse; there was hardly a fraction of the hesitation he usually had about anything else he did. For once, vague scenes lingered in his memory when he woke — the fresh outdoor air, a sense of freedom he hadn't quite felt before — and Sirius's joy at seeing him in the morning, weak but relatively uninjured, was so gratifying that Remus thought for a moment that transforming might be tolerable in the future. 

Finding little to fuss over him about once the full moon had passed, Madam Pomfrey released him from the hospital wing rather quickly, expressing her wonder at how uneventful this transformation seemed to be. "Go take a walk about the grounds," she said, shooing him out. "The castle's rather empty; you ought to take advantage of it."

Sirius was waiting for him just outside the doors, a bag of chocolates in hand. "Flitwick gave it to me when I said I was waiting for you," he said, holding it out. "I think you're one of his favourites."

Remus snorted. "Unlikely. I'm just a saint compared to you and James."

Sirius looked like he was about to protest against this assessment of his behaviour, but he said nothing. "What do you want to do?" he asked, after they'd walked about in relative silence for a few minutes and stood, just within an archway, staring out at the grounds before them, watching as a light flurry of snow dusted the ground.

"What, besides go running through and exploring the Forbidden Forest?"

"You remember what happened during the night!"

"Only some of it," Remus said warily. "I don't remember exactly what we did. But it feels different to spend the night outside than in the Shrieking Shack."

"That's what I thought." Sirius snapped another piece of chocolate in half and held out a piece to Remus. "Really, though, what do you want to do? I feel like it's never just been the two of us, it's always me and James. And we've got weeks to ourselves."

Remus looked up sharply. He toyed with the words in silence, unsure of how to ask. A fleeting vision of the conversation they'd had in the train their first year, when Sirius had asked him about being a werewolf, flashed before his eyes. "Can I — what happened over the summer?" he whispered. 

The lines on Sirius's face hardened. He looked like he was aging five, ten, fifteen years, right in front of Remus's very eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Don't play stupid, you'd been staying with James for weeks by the time I arrived," Remus said. "Your parents would have never willingly let that happen. And you haven't gone home for the holidays."

"Thanks for that, by the way," Sirius said, staring straight ahead. "I never thanked you for staying here with me."

"You didn't answer the question."

Sirius popped another chocolate shard in his mouth and chewed for a moment, screwing up his face in thought. Then he turned and headed back into the castle. "It's cold out here."

Remus sighed. "If you don't want to tell me, you can just say so."

"I do want to tell you," Sirius said over his shoulder. Remus nearly tripped up the stairs. "I just thought we should go somewhere else."

With James, Peter, and Kingsley all at their respective homes for the holidays, their dormitory felt oddly empty, devoid of life. Only James's messy bed, left unmade since the beginning of the week, gave any indication that anyone else besides Sirius and Remus lived there. Sirius sank onto the floor at the foot of his bed, leaning against his trunk. "James's parents offered to have me for Christmas," he said conversationally.

Remus slid to the ground next to him. "And you didn't go?"

"No." Sirius shook his head. "They've — they've been too kind to me already. They've already agreed to let me stay with them next summer, you see." He extended his right hand, palm face-up. The thin white _X_ had faded almost completely, but it was still visible, two tiny ridges, interlocked with each other, running across the face of his palm. "And they took me in at the start of last summer, too, when I showed up on their doorstep."

A chill ran down Remus's back. "You ran away from home."

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds like I had a choice," Sirius said, with a dry laugh. He flexed his hand, opening and closing it in a fist. "My parents gave me this for being sorted into Gryffindor. I think you can imagine what might have happened when they read some of the messages I was sending James about becoming an Animagus."

"But surely they wouldn't have thrown you out on the street for that — Sirius, your parents — "

"Not for trying to become an Animagus, no." He heaved another heavy sigh and chuckled bitterly. "Becoming an Animagus requires a lot of skill; I think my parents would have loved if their son did something like that. But I wasn't careful enough and I left out a letter James wrote about — well, about your transformations." Seeing the look of anxious horror on Remus's face, Sirius continued hurriedly, "We didn't mention you by name, ever, so you don't have to worry about all the Slytherin family gossip making its way here, nothing like that."

"Your parents didn't want you to be friends with a werewolf," Remus said slowly, feeling sick. His heart was pounding against the walls of his chest, a hint of guilt gnawing at his insides. Sirius had upheld his loyalty to him — _to you, Remus, he did all this for you_ — at the cost of his family, his home . . . He looked over at his friend. "Sirius, I'm sorry, I've — you didn't have to — "

Sirius cut him off abruptly. "No, I did," he said. "My family are terrible anyway. It was a worthwhile cause." He opened his hand again. Remus gazed at it intently, remembering every time he'd woken to Sirius sitting next to him, offering him that beautiful, scarred hand. There was a beat of silence that lasted too long, and when Remus glanced over, Sirius was looking back at him. "That is, I mean to say — " He stopped and reset, as if to try again. " _You're_ a worthwhile cause, Remus."

Remus felt his stomach twist as he studied the glassy look in Sirius's eyes, paralysed. The tenderness was back, it was there in his face and it was there for _him_. "Don't say that."

"Why not?" Sirius said, staring back at him. 

"You — your parents — your family disowned you because you know a — because you're — you continued to be friends with a werewolf — "

"Remus, I don't think you're hearing what I'm saying," Sirius interrupted. "My parents know tons of werewolves, and they hardly care about any of them. I'm saying, my family disowned me because — well, because of the lengths I'd go — for you." His hand dropped to the floor in the tiny space between them, crept closer. "Because it's one thing to know a werewolf, but it's another thing entirely to — " Sirius paused again; Remus hardly dared to breathe " — to love one."

There was silence. Then Sirius added, "And I hope you know I mean — you know, beyond platonic." Another pause. "Or at least, you know — what I mean to say is — I really like you, Remus."

There was less than a centimetre of space between Sirius's hand and his own. Remus shuffled through the memories of them again: the hopefulness of taking Sirius's hand in his dreams, remembering what it felt like to be safe and secure and to have something in common with someone else, _anything_ else, when he couldn't keep track of who or what he was, the comfort of Sirius's hand, marred but healed again, on his shoulder, on his cheek, on his wrist, while he lay trembling and feverish on the floor of the Shrieking Shack . . . he let his own hand crawl towards Sirius's and prod it gently, flip it over so he could see the scar on the palm again, that tiny symbol of the pain Sirius bore — _for you, Remus!_ — and the _love_ and everything Sirius would give for him . . . .

"Please say something."

Remus looked up from their hands and stared at Sirius, hard. He thought his heart would melt from the tenderness. "I — I don't know _what_ to say." He folded his hand tentatively into Sirius's, pretended it was the first time he'd done that, soaked up the gorgeous humanity of this feeling of looking at him, looking at Sirius and knowing what he had done. He cracked a smile. "I don't think I've ever seen you cry before."

Sirius closed his eyes and laughed, and it was the first genuine laugh Remus had heard from him in months.

James had really, seriously, indeed, been right in August, Remus thought later that night, lying in bed with Sirius next to him, rolled over on his side, one hand on resting on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and turned his face towards Sirius. This really was turning out to be a very good year.

**Author's Note:**

> this has already been done dozens of times by dozens of writers and in various forms but the first time i read hp i was 8 and most of the subtext flew over my head and i just read for plot (cuz like, i was 8 lmao) but now i'm 20 and going through the hp phase i never had as a teenager. mostly i am Bitter because r*wling didn't do half the characters justice and the angst vis-a-vis lupin being a werewolf was so superficial. anyway i was thinking VERY hard about wolfstar and just. how SOFT they could be. and we love seeing the gang as prepubescent babies. so here we are lol
> 
> also, i literally looked up moon phase calendars from 1971-78 for this. also also, this was meant to be like a short and quick one-shot but i didn't really have a real plan for what this was supposed to be and then i lost my mind and four days later i was looking at This and by then i was like way too invested in the tender sleeping-next-to-each-other scenes to delete any part of it. like wow get a grip. pacing? i don't know her. anyway no one needs 15k+ words of angst and very little plot lmao but ur in luck if you were looking for that
> 
> my tumblr is [here](https://broadchurchs.tumblr.com/) if you would like (no pressure lol). obviously thank u very much for reading!! and i hope u have a really lovely day!! love and cheers, ivy x


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